


Devotion

by taichara



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:36:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because ties, and promises, can and do go both ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> _prompt:_ "doorway to another world"

_Gods no ... no._

It had started like every other mad skirmish that seemed to chase the Shepherds down when they crossed the Gate into the Outworld. Another patchwork world, another massed army -- or two, or three -- of einherjar ready to cut his people down for reasons they didn't, couldn't, quite understand. Chrom had sighed, and gone through the motions of parley, accepted the aid that came his way, and led his people to the field once more.

Then the world went berzerk.

This was no normal combat. The einherjar fought like madmen, giving no quarter; and it was hard, _damned_ hard, to strike at enemies who looked the same, fought the same, _screamed_ the same way as some of his own people. Because so they were: Marth, and Eirika, and Roy, and ...

People. Born of magic, but they laughed and cried and fought beside their comrades like any other Shepherd. They felt. They _lived_ , and no one mentioned the cards of parchment locked in safekeeping far away.

Two years and more made so much difference; that difference made fighting off their mad dopplegangers so much the worse.

And now --

Chrom saw the blade swinging towards him, wielded by a madman astride a frothing stallion -- Sigurd, almost unrecognizable -- and, boxed in by clashes on all sides, had nowhere to retreat.

He saw the flash of black and steel, of scarlet coat over brigandine, and heard Mystletainn whistle through the air. 

Saw a wave of bodies closing in, both friend and foe, the battlefield churning.

And then everything had turned to blood, as the combatants collided with each other, and Chrom's head spun as Cherche's Minerva plucked him bodily from the ground a scant heartbeat before Ephraim's lance skewered his heart.

-*-

_Damn it ... Damn it!_

The battle was over; the aftermath was only beginning, the blood-soaked meadow scattered with the fallen and the wounded. 

Did einherjar corpses disappear once the Shepherds crossed back through the Gate? Or did they remain, and rot -- the way of all flesh -- as echoes of each other across multiple Outworlds? Grim thoughts, these, and gruesome, and Chrom couldn't chase them from his mind.

He'd seen the flash of red, the crop of blonde hair, before Cherche pulled him from the fray. Now, standing in the midst of the bloodied field, he saw what Frederick had reported, face carefully composed; there in the scattered dead ...

_Eldigan. Why._

_No, I know why. Even if your loyalty weren't legend already, I've seen it with my own eyes ... _

_Damn it!_

His thoughts strayed to the slip of stiffened parchment. He could ...

_No._

Chrom's guts curdled at the thought. Bring him back to life, a blank slate to begin over with, with no memory of the last two years? Summon him again, like a child given a new toy soldier to replace one he'd broken? Ignoring everything that had happened -- celebrations, long conversations, despairing consultations in the middle of the night --

_I can't. I won't._

_You deserve more than that. All of you deserve more than that ..._

A hand touched his shoulder. A familiar, unexpected voice echoed in his ear.

"My Lord, are you wounded? If I may aid you ...?"

Chrom whirled, every nerve crackling with shock -- and nearly collided with the bloodied knight who stood, blinking with concerned surprise, hand still upraised. Eldigan, pale as old ivory, drenched with blood from crown to foot, but alive.

_How ..._

_... Another version. A different einherjar._   
_We should have -- I should have thought of that possibility --_

"... Your Majesty? Chrom ...?"

Groping after his scattered wits, Chrom waved away Eldigan's unspoken question. And tucked away, as something not to be thought on too strongly, the way that the lord of Nordion could stand so close to his own corpse and not seem to notice.

"I'm alright, I'm alright. This battle was -- it's been hard on the nerves, that's all."

A slight tilt of his head was the only sign Eldigan gave of his survey of the battlefield. A tiny, weary smile flickered to life on the pale face.

"I cannot argue that observation, my lord. But I do suggest withdrawing, before either of us falls over into the muck and the gore."

Despite wanting nothing more than exactly that, Chrom forced himself to take in the skirmish's aftermath one last time. His hand clenched unconsciously.

"Before that, I need to ask you something."

"Of course. Ask whatever you wish of me."

_For my own peace of mind ..._

"Were you in that scrum? I was sure that you rode through the blockade --"

In one motion Eldigan nodded and went to one knee in the bloodied meadow, hand held to his heart, in a gesture that left Chrom taken aback for the second time.

"I could, I _would_ , do nothing less. 

"You gave my life back to me, Chrom; I will keep yours safe with my dying breath."


End file.
